Shopgirl, Saks, Love and Sampras

We started our day with a consultation to http://www.rottentomatoes.com/movies/box_office.php and looked for our fourth movie of the week. We started with Syriana, Shopgirl, then Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, and finally, The Family Stone. Of them all, the one that got me to thinking most, was Shopgirl. I digested too many reviews from rottentomatoes but I did enjoy the critics opinions, and I enjoyed a most hearty laugh when Bridgette Wilson-Sampras gets her comeuppance.

Best described by film critic, David Edelstein in Slate, “…..In any case, the best performance is by Bridgette Wilson-Sampras as the conniving but peppy slut at the perfume counter. Her big scene—farcical, filthy, surprising—is also the best in the movie. Otherwise, Shopgirl is sadly vacuous, with a sadly vacuous center. Mirabelle is based on a real woman, a lover of Martin's, and the movie is obviously an apology: There you were, this lovely blob of neediness, but all I could see was my own fear of intimacy, and I let you down, and I know I let you down, so let me make it up to you by memorializing your neediness. …”

I tried to find a better picture of Bridgette from the movie, but the black underwear she was wearing, or mostly wearing, did not make it into the publicity shots so they await the moviegoer.

Little did I know that her three year old son was going to reach for my back pocket, in a Japanese restaurant. And that is part of the story.

What a day! "The Family Stone" , second chick flick of the week, and second look at Clare Danes, was a less than satisfying holiday film, gushed over by a few critics, but even less susceptible to satisfaction after scrutiny than Shopgirl.

Well, Shopgirl is about Mirabel who works in the gloves department at Saks. And Lin, beautiful as she is, feels the need for various strange creams and unctions, and on this occasion, Kiehl’s Imperiale Repairateur Moisturizing Eye Balm (I read it directly off the 0.5 oz bottle for ~ $17.00) Only at Saks! So, to Saks, in Palm Desert, where I saw a lovely Prada purse that had been reduced from $1,300 to $950. A key fob, from Prada, leather, with the sacred inscription, was $138. I don’t shop much at Saks. Lin doesn’t either. But, I looked around at the people who do. And the poor folks who have to wait on them.

Obviously, Palm Desert is a red bastion in a blue state, and Saks is about as red as it gets. The plastic surgeons in the community probably are the region’s primary care doctors. A lot of plastic surgery was in evidence, and it seemed sad because there were a lot of ladies, but not exclusively, ladies, who were battling oxidation and time, and sometimes the surgery was worse than what I imagined the pre-treatment state to be. Very sad, but that is whole area of psychopathology and sadness that I do not have the time or patience or knowledge to explore. It was depressing to view such poor adaptation to life.

As we stepped into the street, we saw an attractive young couple and Lin noticed that the young woman was holding a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel puppy. We had a wonderful dog, Allison, who caused us to fall permanently in love with the breed. Irresistible! So, as she is want to do, Lin engaged the lady in conversation, and conversation led to a photograph, and more photographs, and then, because we hit it off…. On the sidewalk…. In front of Saks! Conversation led to a tentative date for coffee, so we exchanged phone numbers, and we left them, Sarah, Morgan and Lex, the pup, as they were getting into their BMW convertible.

Lin and I walked around the many interesting shops on El Paseo. I bought a bank for myself at Sharper Image. I couldn’t talk Lin into some clothes at J. Jill’s. We looked at outrageous coffeemakers, and outrageous jewelry, and then, no phone call having come, we headed for a Japanese restaurant, No Da Te, and we ordered what turned out to be fabulous food. Better than Ruth’s Chris, or the Inn on El Paseo. The phone rang and Morgan said that they were running late. We enjoyed the food, and at dessert time, they walked in. So did Pete Sampras! Lin recognized him immediately. He had his three year old son with him, and he was seated at the table directly behind me. Mrs. Sampras was not there. I would have noticed.

During dessert and conversation with Morgan and Sarah, the three year old nudged my back pocket leading to an apology from Pete and a brief exchange of pleasantries, not related to who he was, or how his wife had entered my life two days before, in her black underwear. He was very nice and the boy, an adorable amalgam of Wilson-Sampras. Morgan and Sarah were so truly and sweetly in love that simply being around them was an uplifting experience, and not of the plastic variety. Next to Arthur Ashe, Pete Sampras was my favorite tennis player, both having gone to my alma mater, U.C.L.A., and his wife, my current favorite black lingerie-attired movie star. And the food was great, too.

Too bad the vacation ends tomorrow.

And, it did. Tomorrow, when this was written was Monday, December 19th, and back to work it was. I hadn't heard from Morgan until tonight, and so I'm updating this entry with a great photograph that he sent along, and I hope the love comes through, because it did for Lin and I. This is a wonderful picture of romantic love!

Look at the puppy. Does he seem a little jealous?

Morgan and Sarah need to tell their story. I've told the story of our encounter and I hope they will explore the recording of what promises to be a long and wonderful love story, possibly through this medium. Did I say that Morgan and I talked about cars, his BMW M3, silver/black low mileage beauty? And we enjoyed tempura green tea ice cream, and green tea...